Charity Case
by vivalablond
Summary: She could not provoke him or anger him like she could most other men. He was made of deeper, stronger stuff than Marius. But she knew of his passion, hidden deep inside. It was his source of strength, what fueled his entire being. She wondered if she could get to it. If she could dig deep down, bring it out of him. She only needed to know how...
1. Heat

"I don't like the way your friend looks at me." Eponine muttered to a distracted Marius, trying to draw his attention back to her. He was sitting at a desk, penning down petty declarations of love in a letter for Cosette.

"Hm? Who?" He asked absentmindedly. The Corinth wine-shop, filled with loud, boisterous students just an hour ago, was on it's way to being completely vacated. Marius wasn't sure who had left and who was still hanging around, drinking themselves into a stupor or flirting with the barmaids.

"That Enjolras fellow." Eponine nodded toward a man standing by the entrance, shaking hands and exchanging uplifting words with departing friends. Marius quickly glanced in his direction and frowned.

"Enjolras? What problem do you have with him?" He asked before getting back to his letter writing, doubting the leader of this rebellion would even notice someone like Eponine.

"He looks at me like..." She kept her eyes trained on the young man, who was busy saying his farewells.

"Like what?" Marius impatiently asked.

"Like I'm some sort of charity case." She finally found the right words to describe the occasional look he gave her when she would stick around to listen to his rousing speeches.

Marius tried to suppress a chuckle, but the sound hadn't escaped Eponine's well-trained ears.

"What? I don't like to be looked down upon." She defended herself against his mocking smile.

Marius refused to say anything in reply, thinking it better not to mention that Enjolras kind of had a right to look down on her. He was, after all, the mastermind behind this entire movement. Not to mention the fact that he was of noble birth, whereas Eponine was only a simple, pretty street urchin.

"I like the way _you_ look at me." Eponine cooed, picking up the ink pot he was using to dip his feather pen into.

"And how does my look differ from that of Enjolras'?" He asked. Eponine peered over his shoulder, reading descriptions of his beloved's flaxen hair and eyes that reminded him of the sea...or something along those lines. She felt her heart ache inside of her.

"Like I'm your equal." She said, her voice dropping as she studied the top of his head, memorizing every color and strand of his brown hair. She willed for him to look up into her eyes, to see and finally notice the utter adoration she had held for him all these months.

As if on cue, he looked up, but not with the kind of reaction she was hoping for. Instead, she saw frustration and annoyance.

"Give that back, 'Ponine." He took the ink from her, placing it on the desk and dipping his pen into it. "I'm almost done writing this letter, give me some time to myself so I can concentrate." He shooed her away rather roughly.

She stood beside him a second longer, tears welling up in her muddy, brown eyes.

"I'll be back later to pick it up." She mumbled before turning to go.

"No, don't leave. Stick around the shop for a bit. I won't take very long, I promise. Besides, it's already nighttime. It's too dark and dangerous for you to be out there on your own."

Her heart warmed at his thoughtfulness.

"It seems you don't know me very well after all, Pontmercy. I'm a creature of the night. I flourish in the dark hours of day." She said, her voice coy as she placed soft fingertips at the nape of his neck.

He shuddered at the touch and then let out a laugh.

"Quit being such a tease, 'Ponine." He leaned forward in his chair, concentrating on his letter. "Now, leave me to my writing."

Feeling a tad disheartened, she turned to see the wine shop completely empty, save for one person who's eyes were trained on hers.

Enjolras' gaze swept through her like a wave of heat, and she quickly looked away. Had he witnessed her brief exchange with Marius just now? Had he seen the look of longing and adoration in her face directed at an unresponsive Marius? The young leader must have, for there was that same detestable look in his eyes. Piteous and condescending.

She furrowed her brows, straightened her shoulders, and marched to the bar, ordering herself a drink while she waited for Marius to finish. She wouldn't let one unnerving glance from Enjolras shake her.


	2. Insomnia

Eponine stared at her empty glass, circling the rim with the tip of her finger. She was only vaguely aware of someone sitting down on the bar-stool beside her.

"He's never going to love me back, is he?" The whispered truth tasted bitter in her mouth, like the alcohol in the pit of her stomach. She was glad Marius was on the complete opposite side of the shop, unable to hear her.

"Oh, take heart, mademoiselle." Said a firm, strong voice she was familiar with. She turned her head and saw Enjolras, who proceeded to order a drink from one of the girls who worked there. He met Eponine's gaze and then reached for her empty glass, sliding it away. "Might I recommend that you not drown your sorrows with alcohol?"

As he said this, the girl came back with a mug of ale and placed it in front of him.

"Aren't you doing the same?" Eponine scoffed. He shook his head and took a sip.

"I'm not drowning my sorrows." He corrected her.

"Then what _are_ you doing?" She asked angrily, turning to face him.

"Trying to relax." He cupped his mug with his hands and sighed heavily. Eponine sensed that his words were loaded with other meanings, but couldn't decipher what they were.

"Right. Leading a revolution must be some load to carry." She faced forward again, not even attempting to hide the sarcasm in her voice.

"It is." He replied, a little too earnestly for her liking, with eyes that knew of greater depths than she.

"Handing out pamphlets and shouting out in the streets getting too tiring for you?" She asked bitterly.

He did not reply, to her chagrin. Couldn't he take a joke or two?

She stared at his face, his eyes lost in a world of his own, hands slightly trembling.

All too late, she realized that she could not tease Enjolras like she could Marius. This young leader was immune to her usual banter and jesting. He was made of deeper, stronger stuff than Marius. She could not provoke him or anger him like she could most other men. Her easy comments slid past him, passing by unnoticed like a warm summer breeze.

Yet, he was so passionate.

The anger was there, in his voice when he spoke of injustice. In his eyes when he walked the cold streets of France, watching beggar children run past.

He did a mighty fine job of controlling that passion, however. Right here, right now, had she not known him, she would take him for any other young man, suffering from a bout of insomnia, trying to find solace in a mug of ale.

Only he could arouse that passion inside of himself at the exact moment when he needed it. It was his source of strength, what fueled his entire being. She wondered if she could get to it. If she could dig deep down, bring it out of him.

She only needed to know how.

"You should get some rest." She said, struggling to add kindness to her words.

"I won't be able to sleep tonight, knowing what's to come tomorrow." He finally replied, his voice raw and tired.

"Tomorrow..." She tried to remember what he had mentioned in his speech earlier that day. "General Lamarque's funeral procession?"

He nodded his head, taking another gulp of alcohol.

"All the same, monsieur," She reached out and put a hand on his arm, causing him to look up sharply. "A general needs his sleep."

It took him a moment to understand that she was referring to him.

"Me? I'm no general." He looked away.

"You have an army." She pointed out. "A bunch of rowdy boys, but an army nonetheless." He slipped his hand away, onto his lap.

"A group of fearless men." He corrected her, eyes on his mug. There it was. A hint of passion.

She let out a small laugh, tinged with softness and that kindness she had been searching for.

"A bunch of boys with lofty hopes, waving wooden swords as they prepare to march into the town square."

He looked up at her, eyes wide. He knew he should have felt offended by those words, but she was already getting up to leave, that pretty smile still on her face, and the way her words came out only served to soften the hard creases around his eyes.

"Get some rest." She ordered one last time, walking in Marius' direction, not knowing that the slight concern she had just shown him, something Enjolras hadn't known he'd been missing, had slowly weaved it's way into his stone heart.


End file.
